


i'm just a going over home

by orphan_account



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: 5+1 Things, Character Death, Character Study, F/M, Families of Choice, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Implied Character Death, Implied Relationships, M/M, Major Character Injury, Original Character(s), Sexual Assault, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:24:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>i'm just a poor wayfaring stranger traveling through this world alone.</p><p>(five stories told by joanna mccoy and one told by jim kirk.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm just a going over home

**Author's Note:**

> note: there is a scene of sexual assault between minors in section iv. take caution. i don't want anyone to be triggered. 
> 
> also, unbeta'd. all mistakes are mine.

i.

Joanna McCoy is five years old. It’s Valentine’s Day. 

Mama spent a whole hour trying to brush and straighten her curly brown hair into submission. She eventually gave up, plaiting it into one large braid that runs down her whole back. Mama ties her favorite ribbon, a pink one with big flowers printed on it, to the bottom of the braid. 

They moved real quick after that. Her hair wasted a lot of good time. Mama helps her shimmy into an old dress that was her cousin Janey’s, white with little pink flowers on the hem. Her pacient leather shoes are shoved on in the back of Mama’s car as they pull out of the apartment parking lot. 

Her school is a big steel and glass building. As they pull into the parking lot, she can see her classroom, Room 394C, all lit up. She can see some of her classmates sitting on the floor, their parents with them, laughing and drinking out of little red cups. Her and Mama drove the entire twenty minutes in silence. Mama didn’t look back at her, didn’t speak to her, until they pull up in front of the building.

“Darlin’.” Mama sounds a lot older than her twenty six years. “If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. Just say the word, and I’ll take you straight home. It’s no problem.” 

(Ever since her and Daddy stopped being married, Mama always sounds a whole lot older.)

“I’m nearly six, Mama. I’m a big girl. I can do this by myself.”

“Alright, Jo.” Mama sounds sad. “I’ll see you at eight. Just call if you need anything.” 

-

Miss Yushkov really outdid herself. Room 394C is all decorated. Little pink and red hearts make strings that dance across the window. A cooler filled with pink lemonade and a plate of heart cookies sit on her desk. 

All the little girls sit with their daddies at their school desks. The boys run around the room while their mamas talk with Miss Yushkov in a big group in the back of the room. 

Alicia Rodriguez, who is the prettiest girl in the class, ask Joanna to sit next with her and Mary Mitchells. Alicia has pin straight black hair that she can wear down all the time without a single hair coming out of place and light brown skin that never burns and doesn’t even have a single freckle. Joanna really wants to be her friend. 

“Where’s your father, Joanna?” Mr. Rodriguez, a big man with tawny brown skin and a thick black mustache asks. 

“Didn’t you hear, Papa?” Alicia begins. “She doesn’t have a papa. No one’s ever seen him. Mary says her papa doesn’t even live with her mama.” 

“Alicia!” 

Joanna can feel her face growing hot. “I do so have a daddy, Alicia Rodriguez! My daddy is a doctor which is better than your stupid plummer daddy.” 

“Than where is he?” Mary asks, smug as a cat with a bowl of cream.

She doesn’t answer. She just leaps from her chair, running to Miss Yushkov. Tears burn at her eyes. She explains to her little Russian teacher that she doesn’t feel very good. She explains that Miss Yushkov must absolutely call her mama right this very minute. 

Mama comes to pick her up in ten minutes. Joanna knows that’s not safe, but she’s grateful nonetheless. They sit in silence again. As she watches the Georgia countryside unfold for her outside the car window, Joanna is sure she really doesn’t want to be friends with Alicia anymore.

 

ii.

It’s summer. Joanna McCoy is eight years old. 

Daddy sends her holograms every single week without fail. He tells her about all the cool stuff there is in space, as much as thought he wouldn’t like it, like aliens and dying stars and supernovas. He tells her that he’s never bored. Patients come to him all the time, and he gets to treat a bunch of space diseases which are a lot cooler than regular earth diseases. He tells her that he made a lot of friends. 

His friends are part of the messages sometimes. 

Miss Christine is a pretty nurse. She has clear pale skin and white-blonde hair that curls just like Joanna always wanted hers to, right around her face. She talks softly and a lot. Her laugh is like the ringing of the church bells. Miss Christine tells her that her Daddy is a real good doctor, assures her that he’s always talking about her. 

Mr. Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov sometimes float in and out of the messages. Mr. Sulu seems really smart. He always tells her about the different kinds of flowers he’s raising in his room, or the fact that he beat Daddy in fencing for the fifth time in a row. Mr. Chekov tells her about his hometown in Russia. He says that almost all the important stuff in the world, like shoes and even school, came from Russia. Daddy just laughs at him. Mr. Scotty is her favorite out of the three. He has a funny accent and makes her laugh a lot.

Miss Nyota is a good friend Daddy’s. Daddy says she can speak more languages than there are on earth. Miss Nyota just laughs and asks a lot of questions. What does she like to do in school? Does she play any sports? How’s her standard coming along? She makes her promise that she will call her whenever she can. Joanna doesn’t tell her in any of her calls, but she really likes her.

Mr. Spock makes Daddy angry and happy all at the same time. Of course she and Mr. Spock know that Daddy doesn’t hate him as much as he says that he does. Mr. Spock talks to her like she’s a high school student with big words and even bigger concepts. She likes that. It makes her feel like she’s one of the most intelligent people in the world. His pointy ears just make it better.

Mr. Jim is Daddy’s best friend. He is pretty. Well, no, handsome because Donna, who is a _teenager_ with a _boyfriend_ , says boys can’t be pretty. So Mr. Jim is handsome. He has bright blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. He makes Daddy laugh and cuss and spit all at the same time. He’s real nice to her too. He sends her little things like earrings and books. Mama says there’s something unnatural about the relationship between Daddy and Mr. Jim.

She doesn’t think so. 

 

iii.

It’s a Friday night. Joanna McCoy is eleven years old. 

It’s the first time she will ever see her father cry. 

She watches his weekly hologram huddled under the quilt Grandmama McCoy made her for her tenth birthday. Daddy doesn’t look so good. His hair is a mess, uncombed and ungreased like he normally has it. Thick bags huddle under his bloodshot eyes. It looks like he hasn’t slept or shaven for a whole week. 

“He’s a stupid son of a bitch, Jo-Jo. I saved his sorry ass a hundred times before, but this was different.”

Daddy pauses for a long time. He downs a whole crystal tumbler of a light brown liquid in a single gulp. He stares at the camera for awhile before his face contorts into a sob. Tears brim and leak from his eyes. They leave shiny clean trails as they make their way down his face. 

“What if I can’t save him the next time?”  
That’s the last thing he says before he buries his face in his hands and weeps. 

She’s quick to turn off her PADD. She feels embarrassed, as if she was watching something dirty, something she shouldn’t be watching. She doesn’t believe her daddy can cry. Crying was something reserved from Lucy Jakes when she doesn’t get a hundred on a test. Crying was meant for Donna from the dinner when her boyfriend broke up with her. Crying was meant for little kids and girls. 

Not her daddy.

Not her daddy who smells like oak and antiseptic. Who played football and basketball and rode horses and was real good with a bow and arrow. Not her daddy who was the strongest person she knew.

Not her daddy. 

 

iv.

It’s a Wednesday night. Joanna McCoy is sixteen years old. 

Her dad still sends her those stupid holograms every single week. She doesn't open them anymore. She notices his absence much more sharply with every passing day. Other kids dads buy them their first cars, escort them to dances, intimidate their first dates. Other kids have dads that have been there their entire lives. They have dads who aren’t alcoholics who divorce their moms and then fly off to join God knows what. They have dads who actually care. 

Her dad is so goddamn busy in goddamn space with his goddamn friends to even know that Taylor James is at her house kissing her right now. 

He tells her she’s the most beautiful girl in the entire girl in the world despite her hair that’s just too curly for him. He tells her that he will love her for the rest of his natural life. He tells that anyone who ever left her alone was a big fool. 

She almost doesn’t notice that his hand is slipping up her shorts. Almost. Almost until it’s right there. She doesn't want it to be there. She doesn't want it to be there because she can almost hear her dad’s voice in her ear. _You could do so much better, darlin’._ And as much as she hates it, that stupid voice is damn right. Suddenly, the thought of this boy on her is repulsive. Taylor has skin that smells like rotten tobacco and acne scars that go one for miles and miles. 

“No,” she whispers forcefully. 

“Aw, come on, babe.” His breath is hot and sour on her cheek. He presses his hand a little harder onto her inner thigh. “You know you want to.” 

“No.” She shoves him off of her. His body falls in a clutter of limbs and cloth to the floor. “No, I don’t wanna. Now get the hell out my house ‘fore I call the damn cops.” 

“You’re a damn bitch. Don’t think I won’t tell everyone what you do, bitch.”

“Out!” She shouts as she rips the door open. “Get out!” 

She locks the door tightly behind him. She stunned for a while, standing there in the middle of her cramp and dark living room in the heavy Georgia heat. She doesn’t even realise that she’s crying until tears soak the front of her shirt. 

She slinks to the bathroom. Her clothes stick to her, plastered with sweat, but she peels them off. The cool water of her cold shower is welcome on her skin. She takes care to scrub her eyes and every inch of her damn skin like it’s on fire. She loses track of how long she spends in that shower, but she feels better when she finally gets out. She binds her thick hair up in a printed hair wrap Miss Nyota gave her for her fourteenth birthday. She slips on her oversized cheer shirt. Night has fallen, and a cool air sweeps the apartment. Mama should be home soon.

She huddles herself on her bed and clicks on the TV. She flips on her PADD. Her message box is full to the brim. She deletes all of it, choosing to create a new message. She flips through her contacts.

capt.kirk@enterprise.starfleet.gov  
candydicataldo@hmail.com  
catherine234@toccoahs.com  
ccouhura@enterprise.starfleet.gov

cmomccoy@enterprise.starfleet.gov

She clicks it. 

The camera betrays her. Her eyes are red and swelled. She smiles anyway.

“Hi, Dad. I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you in a while...”

 

v.

It’s Homecoming Weekend. Joanna McCoy is eighteen years old. 

She didn’t really think they’d pick her. But they did. They did pick her and now her flesh is goosed bumped where her pink dress doesn’t cover her. The plastic crown is lowered on her head. She smiles brighter than she’s ever smiled before.

“So, Joanna,” asks her principal, a heavy set black woman, asks her. “You’re a senior, captain of the cheer squad, it’s Homecoming Weekend, and you’re the queen. Is there anything that could make this day more special?”

Her principal passes her the mike. The crowd stares at her expectantly as she takes a deep breath. Tom Jackson smiles at her brightly with that damn crooked grin, like he’s got a damn secret to keep. She can’t wait to dance with him tomorrow. “Well, Ms. LaVere, my dad unfortunately can’t be here. He doesn’t have shore leave for a while. But I know that he’s here in spirit.”

Football Coach Mattias grabs the mike from her hand with a wink. 

“Well, Jo,” he drawls in a thick accent she thought was very charming freshman year. (She still does.) “We all have a big surprise for you. I’d like to ask the whole crowd gathered here today to direct your attention to the home side of the field. Would y’all please stand up and give a big hand- yes that’s it, y’all- to former Toccoa #47 and current Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise, Leonard McCoy.” 

A figure in a grey dress uniform, its grey and gold hat pulled low over its eyes, marched across the half field. It marched right up to her, its hat still over its eyes. She pulled the hat off to reveal familiar brown eyes. 

“Hi, baby girl.” Her father whispered softly. 

“Hi, Dad.” She replied. 

To this very day, she still doesn’t know how long the two of them sat there holding each other. She just remembers the smell of oak wood and antiseptic and the warm wetness of his tears soaking through the cotton of her sleeve. 

 

(+i.)

It’s Valentine’s Day. Joanna McCoy is twenty one years old. 

They sat there the whole damn day. The tow of them. Spock and Nyota whisper in Vulcan quietly from the hall the entire day, the syllables soft and mournful. She sniffles from time to time. He doesn’t make a noise.

She’s so tiny between all of them. Her father’s hand that she clings to so tightly practically dwarfs her own hand. The two of them look so goddamn alike since she cut her hair into the little pixie cut. They have the same eyes, the same jaw line, the same habits. It practically pains him to look at her. 

“He’s going to get better, you know that right?” He whispers softly. Joanna’s only response is a soft hollow laugh. She shakes her head. 

“No,” her voice is weak and thick. “No, he won’t. I read his charts. People don’t get better from injuries like these.” 

She pauses. Her small hand settles on his cheek. Tears start streaming down her own. She look him in the eyes, his own pain reflected in hers.

“I don’t wanna to lose my daddy, Jim.”  
“I know.”

The two of them cry together, hold each other, faced together with losing the a man they both love.

**Author's Note:**

> this was hard to write, but i did it. 
> 
> do me a favor tonight, guys. hug your dad. if you can't, call him. if you can't, please just think about him. don't waste your relationship with him. i wasted mine. 
> 
> it's not worth it.


End file.
